Dick Grayson (dickgayson) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-02-14 23:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, !nsfw, dick grayson, slade wilson |
WHO: Dick Grayson and Slade Wilson
WHAT: An Almost-Normal Valentine's Date
WHEN: Feb 14th, Night
WHERE: Dick's Room
STATUS: Complete
WARNING: References to villainy and some sexuality. FTB.
The whole situation was a little weird for him, truth be told. Not just being here, but everything that had happened since he got here. From superheroes with a distaste for sidekicks to villains who were halfway reasonable human beings. It was clear that they weren't in Gotham anymore. And the weirdest thing of all was also the one he was most used to. Slade had never not made his intentions known. The little bit of time that Dick had spent deeply involved with the Wilson family had shown him the very narrow line of distinction between good and bad and also just how easily someone could cross from one side of that line to the other. With Bruce, it had always been some unreachable moral goal, but the further he strayed from Robin, the more he understood all of the nuances that existed in the world. And he thought he might have been a better person because of it. But never in his life did he imagine he would be going on a date with the person who'd blown his house up… twice. He wasn't sure if it was just poor judgment, or if the strange horny-vibe the hotel was giving off had started to affect his brain. But he'd already agreed to dinner and it just seemed rude to cancel. Dick fully anticipated that they'd end up arguing about something before they even got to dessert and he would end up either alone or with Jason within the hour. But he was doing his best to keep an open mind and give it a shot. Maybe Slade would be so grateful that he finally got what he'd been after for almost a decade that he'd be nice for a change. If he did, and if this went further than dinner, Dick had a few ground rules he had to establish first. He'd already decided that. Things may have been different here than they were back home but that didn't mean he couldn't, or wouldn't, set some boundaries. His therapist would've been so proud of him. With so many people celebrating, and the need for privacy ranked someone higher than the desire to do things conventionally, Dick had told Slade just to come to his room for dinner. Every other reasonable place also seemed like the kind of place others might be and that wasn't the vibe he was trying to set for the night. At least not yet. Dick didn't know from personal experience what normal people even did on Valentine's Day. It was always just a good day for half the villains in Gotham to get extra kitschy and he'd always had his hands full with them. He supposed things hadn't changed that much. But, again, being pessimistic about it wasn't going to help anyone. So he showered, dressed, and tidied up the room while he waited. Then he paced, overthinking a dozen different things: should he have shaved, should he have offered to help cook, did he need to run down to the bar and get a significant amount of alcohol just to get through this, and was his shirt the right shade of blue to set off his skin tone without being overtly reminiscent of Nightwing? Though, that last one wasn't much of a problem. Slade would have enjoyed being reminded of Nightwing. At the last minute, he went back to the closet and pulled out the Robin costume, then hung it artfully on the outside of the bathroom door. If he left the door ajar it was nice and subtle - just a flash of red and green. But it was there, as a reminder if nothing else. And it might keep things nice and level between them. ~ Slade had always been particularly good at finding the right rhythm when it came to Valentine’s Day. It was a simple enough formula. That was the day that he picked out something shiny and new from Tiffany’s for Addie, made dinner, then unwrapped his gift at the end of the night. Eventually, of course, he’d managed to find a way to destroy even that simple routine by putting his focus off of the lingerie-clad wife and turning it onto his relationship with his children. It had been ingrained in his mind that if he didn’t teach his children what to expect from a partner, that someone else would work their way in and train them to expect something far different. The string of relationships that followed should have disproved his theory, but he wasn’t about to forsake the attempt now. Especially when there was no ex-wife to be irritated by his attention going to his children here, and Dick would hardly begrudge him the extra time it had taken to break into Rose and Jojo’s rooms to leave valentine for them and the little roommate. It still left him with plenty of time to finish making dinner and to lift a bottle of wine out of the bar on the way back upstairs. Though he genuinely doubted that Wayne, the notoriously self-righteous teetotaller, had taken the time to teach his boys about what went into the selection of alcohol, he still knew what matched up with duck even if his date didn’t. It was a solid attempt to make nice, at least. It didn’t take long to find himself outside of the former sidekick’s room. That wasn’t entirely unusual on any given day; he’d always had a fondness for dropping in on him unannounced. Occasionally it was to declare his presence in the city, offer him a chance to run away together and forsake Batman, or even just to tell him that he made a charming little babysitter. Normally, he’d have just let himself into the man’s apartment without a second thought. Then again, he normally needed Dick’s kitchen if he intended to bring him (routinely poorly received) breakfast in bed. Still, it was more the fact that his hands were occupied by dinner rather than a newfound appreciation of societal boundaries that caused him to knock on the door for the first time since they’d met each other. Regardless, he waited obediently for it to be opened this time. The set up of the bedrooms left something to ask for when it came to arranging dinner plates, but he managed to set something passable up on the desk. He remained largely silent until he’d finished pouring the wine, before holding out a glass towards Dick like he was assuring him that he could come a little bit closer to accept it without being bitten. A drink or two would probably ease away the memories of the history between them that indicated something heinous as his purpose. As it stood the memories of that constant hunt hung in the air between them just as blatantly as the little pair of feather panties that were peaking out of the crack in the bathroom door. A nice touch that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by his ‘villain.’ “Come here, boy.” He requested, amusement already working its way into his gaze. “I’ll push in your chair.” ~ Dick had expected Slade to just open the door and walk right in like he always did. The sound of knocking was sudden and jarring and it shook him out of his obsessive double-checking. He didn't know what he was even worried about, though. It wasn't like Slade was going to come in here and stab him or set his room on fire. Probably. It was just that flirting with villains was still kind of a new thing for him. Midnighter didn't count. He found himself standing a bit away from the door as he opened it, which didn't offer him any protection from what he imagined might happen, but it still put a little bit of distance between him and Slade - a distance which he maintained as he let the older man into the room and closed the door softly behind him. It occurred to him that this was the first time the two of them were really alone together without masks and aliases between them. It left Dick feeling strangely vulnerable, but he didn't hate it. Slade was still Slade, he always wore some kind of mask, and Dick had only ever truly been himself when he'd been Robin. But maybe just being here, away from Gotham, might make some kind of a difference. He lingered right at the edge of the bed, watching Slade as he set everything up and poured their drinks. He was kind of glad for the silence anyway. In all the time he'd spent over-analyzing himself and the situation, he still hadn't figured out exactly what he wanted to get out of this, and he was grateful for a few extra minutes to settle into the situation and figure out what he wanted to do. There were so few situations where he found himself genuinely nervous and yet, here he was, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he reached out and accepted the wine glass. Before he knew what he was doing, he was already answering Slade's request, moving forward and taking the seat that was offered to him. It was just polite, wasn't it? That was how he was raised. He had the wine glass halfway up to his lips before he stopped, suddenly, and turned to look back up at Slade. "Wait, are you being nice? Is this a trick? What do you want?" He was more suspicious than nervous all of a sudden. Which, honestly, he should have been suspicious before but he was too busy trying to figure out what to wear. ~ What did Slade want out of the evening with Dick? As redundant as it might have seemed after all of their years going back and forth, it wasn't a bad question at the core. There was doubtlessly some part of the interactions that had left the impression that he wanted a mindlessly obedient sidekick to answer his beck and call. In some other way, perhaps he’d made it look like he’d sought out Dick to satisfy the void that had been left inside of him when he’d lost Grant. And maybe, to some degree, there’d been truth to the fact that he’d been left with an ache in his heart that fueled his hatred for how Batman failed to appreciate what had slipped out of his grasp. Dick was the firstborn son and he’d still been the sweet wide-eyed sidekick then so maybe there was something to that argument. It was the sort of thing that a psychologist could have picked to pieces endlessly. The real answer to the question was simpler than any of that, though, because it was very much about the moment. And in this particular moment, he had the same young man he’d spent so much of his life pursuing looking up at him with his pretty head full of all the awful things he could do. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that those plots had already been well calculated before Dick had ever accepted the invitation to have dinner together. He knew full well what terrible things could come from the evening, but why invite the monster under your bed into it if you didn’t appreciate its nature? Slade leaned in close behind Dick, cheek brushing up against cheek. He took full advantage of how the position served to emphasize their height difference, letting it sink in how much smaller Dick seemed when he was seated and the other man was still standing above him. “I want you to finish up your dinner,” he informed him, “So I can put you on your knees and give you dessert.” ~ That was what Dick had been waiting for. There was easily a half-dozen other answers that Slade could have given, but after their nearly decade-long game of cat and mouse, that was the answer he'd most anticipated. And it was true that it was the most logical conclusion to come to. It was Valentine's Day, they were in his room, this was Slade, and Slade had never been shy about making his desires known even when he was being a complete bastard in the same breath. But that was the delicate thing here. And Dick had dealt with enough situations like this to have a pretty good idea of how to handle it. He may have blushed, and felt a soft ripple of anticipation slide down his spine, but he was a good enough tactician to be able to reign it all in and follow the steps he had laid out for himself. Dick reached up behind him and brushed his hand along Slade's shoulder and down his chest. "I can't finish until you sit down," he said. "And, besides, we have some things we need to discuss before any of that can happen." He hadn't said no, but the important part was that he hadn't said yes either. Slade could flirt all he wanted, but it wasn't going to change a thing until Dick said his piece and got the assurances he needed. He waited for Slade to get settled into the second chair and for some semblance of a normal dinner date to settle between them. For the first time, he noticed what Slade had made and smiled a bit to himself. If he was reading the right intent into it, it showed a deliberate nod towards Dick's culture and a respect for the somewhat unique dietary restrictions. Though Dick supposed he could have very well asked Jason for advice. That was just as likely as anything else. And it was kind of strange that his first instinct was to assume the most complimentary thing when it could just as easily have been an accident. "I'd been thinking about this a bit before I got here," he said, casually picking at dinner without actually eating anything yet. "And the conclusion that I came to was that it was a conflict of interests to engage in anything, at all, while you were still antagonizing my team. No matter how much I might want to do something, the Titans are still a priority." The other Robins came first, of course, especially since his team had a new de facto leader. But he would still come running anytime they were threatened, so the point remained. He couldn't carry on with Slade while Slade was hunting them. But if Dick could get what he wanted in two areas at once, well, all the better. And he wasn't being dishonest about it being a conflict of interests. ~ Slade lifted his glass of wine upwards slowly and took a particularly lengthy sip from it at hearing the beginning of the request. It may have been undignified to chug wine but it was equally undignified to find himself still in the same old position of having to barter around the wellbeing of the Titans. There wasn’t an ounce of him that didn’t hate them after having seen how their stories entwined with his family’s time and time again; the fight that had led to Grant’s death, the evident disdain as Joey lost his grasp on sanity, and the accusations leveled at Rose for the blood running through her veins. The self-righteousness which fueled their existence was no good for anyone that he’d ever cared for. It didn’t particularly matter which variation of what timeline that Dick had been pulled out of. They could have spent hours going back and forth over who had been the last to land a blow and what debt was owed for each offense. That would never change a thing because Slade had lost his first love on the day that their paths had crossed and nothing could ever change that. His baby boy had been stolen from him once then again and again by the Titans’ countless interventions. “What chance have I had to leave them be?” Slade finally replied to Dick’s question, reaching for the wine to refill his glass. “They can’t seem to stop finding themselves in my family’s affairs.” Even if he accepted Grant’s contract had been filled then there was still no way to ignore the endless list of slights that had followed. How could he believe revenge wasn’t at the core of how long they’d watched Joey’s descent without helping him? They’d seen a monster hiding behind a cherub’s face. And his sweet Rose never even had a chance to be anything but ‘psychopath’ from the moment they’d laid eyes on her. The Titans’ desire to forsake them for their father’s sins was relentless. They’d done nothing in their short lives but seek to please him. Yet Dick was no different than they were. He’d been dragged into the whirlwind of capes and costumes too young to understand what it all meant. He’d been a child thrown into a world painted black and white, and all the years that Deathstroke had spent antagonizing Robin had done nothing to prove the fallacy of their cause. Slade knew if he refused to relinquish that now then his stubbornness and pride were in danger of standing in the way of what he’d spent so many years attempting. “Keep them away from my children and you’ll have what you want.” He offered as a compromise. ~ Slade had a point, and Dick was well aware of it. He'd seen first hand what happened to Grant, how they'd treated Joey and Rose. He knew that good was not necessarily nice and sometimes it wasn't even that good. Seeing through the veil of Bruce's absolute black and white morality had been the first thing that shook him after losing the Robin mantle. He'd tried so hard for so long to believe that there was only one true and right way to justice and that it was Bruce's way. But there were a lot of things that had changed and broken loose since then. It was a point that he didn't want to argue. He didn't have anything to stand on if he tried, anyway. "You're not wrong," he shrugged. "I'll be the first to admit they weren't treated the way they should have been while they were with the team, and that's on me because you know - you have to know - how much I care about Joey and Rose. I can't say that they'll all listen to me, some of them definitely won't, but I'll do what I can and we'll figure it out as we go." There were just too many circumstances he could see overlapping to be able to give a definitive, absolute answer. He could figure his way around it, though. And they could take individual conflicts as they arose. If Slade was willing to give some - and Dick had to trust that he was, which wasn't exactly easy - then Dick also had to be willing to find a solution that worked for everyone. He couldn't expect the Titans to leave them alone if they were doing something destructive; he could barely get them to leave Jason alone and even that was hit or miss at times. But maybe… maybe this could work. He was a little bit surprised that he actually wanted it to work. That was Slade's charm, though. He'd always had some kind of effect on Dick and the only thing that had ever kept him from doing something about it had been stubbornness and a thin line that they'd already found a way to cross. It was a matter of permitting himself now. They had dinner to get through, first, and maybe by the time they finished with dinner, Dick would have settled into the idea that the sky wasn't going to fall in on top of him if he did one selfish thing just because he wanted to. So, as if to punctuate the conversation, he reached across the desk and brushed his fingers across Slade's forearm with a small smile. "I haven't told you thanks for cooking yet," he offered, trying to steer back towards something more pleasant. "If you hadn't we'd be eating instant noodles, so it's a good thing you offered." ~ Slade did know how much Dick cared about his children and in some way it was part of the appeal of him. He’d already seen the side of the other man that was so affectionate and protective of the most important people in his life, and that dismissed a number of worries that could have arisen along the way. As much as Slade may have been guided by lust, and he was well aware of that particular set of desires for Dick, the interactions with his children had made him seem far more worthy of his time and energy than a typical fling. The fantasy didn’t have to end after a quick tumble through the sheets because he’d already proven that he’d be able to sit sweetly at the breakfast table with his family. Slade may have had to be the one in the apron cooking said breakfast but that was a small price to pay for Robin's company. So Slade took the out that he was being offered to move them away from the less pleasant topics and back towards his insistent flirting. “I’m happy to. Tonight’s the perfect opportunity to let someone else take care of you and be a little selfish for a change.” Slade replied to Dick, shifting his seat a little bit and leaning back to look over him. He was an exceptionally beautiful boy from the meticulously kept hair on top of his head down to the carefully chosen socks currently encasing his feet. Something about it all nagged Slade’s inner chaotic urges; the thought of dragging his fingers through Dick’s hair and messing everything up just enough was thrilling. ~ Dick was still eyeing Slade slightly while they ate, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for him to do something completely objectionable. But it didn't come. He never really thought he would see good behavior from this particular man, but maybe he was just jaded. And why wouldn't he be, all things considered? Not just from Slade, but from romance in general. He loved being in love but it had never really worked out for him. Still, he wanted it to. That was his fatal flaw; he always wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt. Even now. Even with Slade. "Lots of people have said they wanted to take care of the Robins," he shrugged, reaching over to fill up his wine glass again. "It's just that not a lot of people have been able to follow-through. So if you're not going to get bored as soon as you get what you want…" He eyed Slade over the rim of his glass and took another long, slow swig, then set it down and pushed back from the desk. If they were going to do this, and it looked like they were, Dick was going to maintain some level of control over when and how it happened. Instead of trying to get Slade to come to him - which wouldn't have been difficult, at all - he moved over to Slade, resting his hands on the older man's shoulders first, and then easing down onto his lap. "So tell me," he started, and draped his arm across Slade's shoulders as he leaned in, "how are you going to take care of me? And how are you going to make me believe you're going to stay and keep doing it?" ~ Slade brought a hand down to glide down over Dick’s back, letting it settle on his backside lightly to help support where he was settled on his lap. It was as convenient a way to hold him in place as any and it was far more enjoyable than most to finally get to touch him that way. The way that the boy was so close to him now made the most impulsive part of him want to rush to the surface and forego all of the build-up that he’d spent so many years pondering. How long had he wanted the little Robin to settle on his lap and bat his eyelashes at him just so? It was long enough that he’d been through a million different scenarios for how exactly he’d wind up with him in that position (a few far more socially acceptable than others) and what he would do once he was there. “The first thing I’m going to do is throw you onto the bed and make you bury that pretty little face in the pillow so no one overhears you whining for your Daddy,” Slade informed him. He tightened his grip on Dick’s backside to turn the support into a grip, before sliding his hand away entirely to deliver a firm slap. The satisfying sound of his palm landing was slightly muffled by the fabric of Dick’s trousers, but he still rubbed any lingering sting away as if it were even nearly the worst blow he’d ever landed on him. “Then, when I think you’re ready, I’m going to make you scream it so loud there’s no questions about what you’re letting Deathstroke do to you.” He stood up and walked towards the bed with that, keeping Dick held close to his chest by an arm wrapped around his back. It was a deceptively tender hold and one that put them almost into a loving embrace before he tossed him down onto the mattress without a single regard for how he landed. He climbed onto the bed himself and reached down to take the other man’s chin in his hand. It was a much more familiar position to be in with the other man and he smiled as he looked down into Dick’s eyes. “But don’t worry, Robin. I’m all heart. I’ll get you a glass of water once you’ve screamed yourself hoarse.” He promised. ~ Maybe it was the weird energy going on in the hotel, maybe it was years of repressed, pent-up desire for Slade that he'd only pushed away because he'd been taught that All Villains Were Bad, but Dick couldn't see anything wrong with the situation at all. Whatever protests he might have made in the past were forgotten, because Slade had said exactly what he wanted to hear. He'd probably said it before, too, but before Dick wasn't listening to him monologue. Now, though? Now it went right to his gut and he couldn't stop himself from groaning softly and burying his face against Slade's neck. He didn't get the chance to say that he might like that before Slade had him up and in one swift movement had moved to, and deposited him on, the bed. Dick bounced a little and caught himself on his elbows, easily hooking his leg around Slade’s waist as he crawled up on the bed towards him. “I’m going to need breakfast in the morning,” he teased, a small hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “And this is my week off carbs, so you’re going to have to get creative. But,” he hummed and lulled his head to the side thoughtfully. “I think I can agree to this.” He still couldn’t be entirely sure that Slade wouldn’t get bored of him as soon as he had what he wanted, but that was something that Dick was always going to worry about. And he could only hope that wouldn’t be the case. Otherwise, he was going to feel guilty and it was going to make things awkward around the hotel. But he cast that fear away, for the moment, and reached out for Slade. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, tipping his head softly to the side. “I can start making jokes about our ‘ship name or you can kiss me.” |